Love Is What We Make It
Love is patient, love is kind....
Funny thing about love is that it is indescribable but easily definable all at once.
That makes no sense.
But that is what love does to people.
It makes the impossible seem ordinary and the rudimentary appear exceptional.
Today my husband and I celebrate 8 years of marriage and 13 years together.
13 years full of memories, impetuous decisions, silly fights, memorable make-ups, hilarious stories, rough-incredibly rough times YOU never thought youd make it through , and friends and family that have been by our side through it all.
I would have never imagined being in a relationship like this and humbled by another soul as an adult.
Too many times I felt broken and incomplete when I was younger...and honestly, that doesn't change as an adult with a snap of the fingers. So most days, there are reasons I cannot quite explain why....but I feel broken and unworthy.
I searched in all the wrong places for love and acceptance and found poor substitutes for both.
When I was younger, I used to think affairs were romantic.
I also used to hate magicians when I was younger.
I found them to be creepy and I was disgusted they made their livelihoods off of scamming people and lying. I wanted a clear cut understanding to the magic.
I wanted to know their secrets and understand what went on behind the smoke and mirrors.
Scratch that, I think I still hate magicians.
But let's stay on point shall we?
Ahh yes, affairs.
The thought that two people were so full of passion and attraction for one another they could not deny one it or try to contain their emotions so they had to give in to temptation was alluring. Exciting. Magnetic.
They had to throw caution to the wind.
They had to risk hurting their loved ones.
They had to risk destroying their families.
They had to be selfish.
I thought that an affair showed love and promise and passion and desire.
I did not think of how other people would feel.
How they would react.
How their worlds would be ruined.
I thought that love was impatient and instant.
That was not love I was envisioning.
I was thinking of self-gratification. Of lust. Of sex. Of hormones. Of anything but love.
I do not condone or condemn affairs.
We all live our own lives and have to deal with consequences accordingly.
I have known couples who have overcome affairs and thrived and I have known couples who were broken into millions of pieces never to be brought back together.
My point is, I had no clue what love was, what it was supposed to be and thinking that an affair was a testament to love was a silly notion.
I had a concept that love should be passion and impatience and the feeling of completeness when two people are together.
It is rare for this to happen, but I've been wrong before. I am now mature enough to look back and accept that my concept of love was wrong when I was younger.
Before I could accept love I had to learn to love myself.
I had to find what made me happy, what made me whole. And honestly...I am still working on that.
I do not believe another person completes you.
You must be whole to accept love.
Whole, not perfect.
You can have scars, battle wounds, a past and other tell tale signs that you were not ready for love or your loved ones weren't ready for it but you must be whole.
You must know what you want out of life and your partner.
You must not rely on them to supply a part of you.
You must be open and honest with yourself and others.
You cannot have a healthy relationship based on lies or deceit.
You cannot have a healthy relationship while being degraded or put down.
You must realize you are worthy of love and that you can give as much as you take.
If you cannot, you will end up not only breaking their heart but pieces of your own.
Love is what we make of it.
Love is what we accept and expect from others.
Love is patience.
It is encouraging your partner to be themselves. To love themselves. To be comfortable in their skin.
Love is scary. It is overwhelming and consuming. It can bring you to the edge of tears and wipe away any fear or sadness in your heart.
Love is hard. It demands dedication. It is direct and raw. It needs nourishment and work.
Love to me is how we live our lives.
It is saying kind words to each other on a rough day.
It is a silent hug in a too loud hospital room. It is picking up her favorite tea just because . It is peanut butter cups in his stockings. It is working out together towards a healthier future. It is standing down from a silly fight when you're feeling extra feisty. It is cuddling and watching a movie when your hubby is sick. It is buying tampons for your wife and not feeling an ounce of shame.
It is rejecting the naysayers in your life and making room for the ones who encourage your love.
Love is whatever we make it, whatever we accept, and whatever we feel we deserve.
It is only as powerful as we make it.
Sometimes, that is not enough.
We need more than love.
We need happiness.
Dedication. Someone who will not give up on us when we become unbearable.
A sounding board.
Someone to question us and push us to be the best version of ourselves.
A shoulder to cry on.
Someone to fight with but never belittles us, disrespects us or treats us cruel.
Someone that shows you how bright you shine when all you can see is darkness.
A person to help pick up the pieces when you bust wide open.
All those, however, are made possible with love.
I woke up to a rainy day, upset that on our anniversary we did not have perfect weather. I always want to do whatever I can to make things good....or better....or as best as I can.
But then I realized, I do not need perfect weather because we bring the love and light with us wherever we may go.
I am still not a hundred percent sure what love is. I just know after 8 married years...I still want to feel like a newlywed.
To feel giddy and happy. To feel we can conquer any obstacle together. To...feel fortunate for our shortcomings and rough life lessons we have endured because they have brought us closer together.
To feel loved.
I feel blessed to love another soul so fiercely. My heart knows we are not perfect and that sometimes there's more bad days than good, that comparison is the root of all evil and that there are areas I just cannot excel in....so we make do.
But, my heart? She still beats to make him happy, to want to make his day better, to want to make him proud of who I am. I feel confident and confused by our love. I somehow feel both humbled yet proud to have someone to call my husband.
I feel...like I understand a little of this love thing.
Not all of it, some things are meant to confuse us, to enamor us, to hypnotize us.
And, for now I am okay with this kind of magic, until I am ready to create some of my own.